A CERTAIN widow, who had only a single Sheep and wished to make the
most of his wool, sheared him so closely as to cut his skin as well
as his fleece. The Sheep, smarting under this treatment, cried out:
“Why do you torture me thus? It is no gain to yourself. My blood will
not add to the weight of the wool. If you are after flesh send for
the Butcher, who will end my misery; but if it is only wool that you
want, send for the Shearer, who will clip my fleece without drawing my
blood.”